


Over a cup of coffee

by TwilightPony21



Category: FBI (TV 2018)
Genre: Coffee Shop/Bakery AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightPony21/pseuds/TwilightPony21
Summary: Just a little coffee shop/bakery AU one-shot.  Maggie/OA.
Relationships: Maggie Bell & OA Zidan, Maggie Bell/OA Zidan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Over a cup of coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I have to admit that I love coffee shop/bakery AU fics. I also love the scenes on the show where OA calls Maggie to ask for coffee. So it seemed like a good idea to try a coffee shop fic for the two of them. I hope this one came out all right and that Maggie and OA sound recognizable even in an AU. Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

“Extra large black coffee, please.”

Maggie Bell didn’t realize how impatient she sounded when she gave her order to the barista behind the counter of the small bakery. It hadn’t been a good morning so far. She had been woken up by an urgent message from the FBI Assistant Director in Charge who wanted to schedule a last-minute meeting with her. Hastily, she had thrown on some presentable business clothes, run a brush through her hair, and rushed out the door to grab coffee.

When she found that her usual coffee shop was closed for renovations, she had growled in frustration and stopped at the next open bakery a couple blocks further from 26 Fed.

“If you need something that really packs a punch, you might try a double ristretto,” the barista advised.

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll just stick with my black coffee,” Maggie grumbled.

“Copy that.”

There was a slightly defensive tone to his voice and Maggie relented a little. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s been a rough morning already.”

Just then, her phone rang.

“Special Agent Maggie Bell,” she answered. “Good morning, sir. … Yes, I’ll be right there. … I’m on my way, sir.”

“Your coffee,” the barista announced, tightening the lid on a travel mug filled with hot, steaming liquid and handing it over the counter. “Special Agent Maggie Bell.”

He smiled a little sheepishly for overhearing her on the phone, and Maggie offered him a small smile in return. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s me.”

She swiped her card for payment and took the coffee gratefully.

“Well, Special Agent Maggie Bell, I hope your day gets better from here.”

Maggie took a sip of coffee and was pleasantly surprised by the rich, black flavor. “It’s already better now that I have coffee. Thanks…uh…” She looked at him expectantly, searching for his name.

“Omar,” he replied. “But you can call me OA.”

~*~o~*~

“Special Agent Maggie Bell,” OA drawled with a smile when he saw her enter the bakery the next morning. “Extra large black coffee coming right up.”

Maggie returned his smile this time, obviously pleased that he remembered her order from the day before. She wasn’t in as much of a rush this morning, and she took the time to appreciate the small family bakery that offered a variety of coffee, tea, and baked goods from both America and their home country, Egypt.

OA poured her coffee and wrapped a pastry for her, telling her it was on the house, and he felt his heart beat a little faster when he was on the receiving end of that smile.

Over the next few weeks, Maggie became a regular in the shop and OA convinced her to try a selection of their breads, pastries, fruits, cheese, and other baked goods. But the extra large black coffee remained Maggie’s daily staple, and OA was always happy to provide her with more than enough caffeine.

“I got your back, Maggie,” he always said.

And so even when her old coffee shop reopened, Maggie continued coming back to the Zidan Bakery every morning. It was the coffee, she told herself. It had nothing to do with the tall, dark, and handsome barista behind the counter.

~*~o~*~

“You like her,” OA’s younger sister, Amira, observed after a couple of months.

OA shrugged, keeping his eyes on the cash register as he counted receipts. “She’s nice. And she drinks a lot of coffee.”

“No, I mean you _like_ her,” Amira insisted. “You get this stupid expression on your face every time she walks in the door. Why can’t you just admit that you’re completely—”

“Amira!” The sharp voice of their mother instantly silenced her. “Amira, the bread is ready to be taken out of the oven.”

“Yes, Mama,” Amira said obediently, hurrying away to the kitchen and throwing her brother a knowing look over her shoulder.

Mrs. Zidan continued to bustle about the counter for a few minutes, tidying some papers, rearranging some of the pastries, and hovering over her son to check his math against the cash register. “So you think this girl is nice, Omar?” she finally asked.

OA sighed, as he could lie to Amira but not to his mother. “Yes, Mama, I do.”

“She is the police, yes?”

“She’s an FBI agent.”

Mrs. Zidan gave her son a stern look. “Be careful, Omar,” she warned. “The police are tricky people. Nothing good ever comes from them.”

~*~o~*~

“Morning, OA.”

OA knew Maggie’s voice by now, and he didn’t even have to look up from where he was arranging loaves of freshly baked bread on the counter. “Hey, Maggie. Just one second and I’ll get that black coffee ready to go for you.”

“Uh, two coffees today, actually,” she said.

At that, OA looked up in surprise and realized that she had brought a guest with her today.

“OA, this is Special Agent Nestor Vertiz.”

“Hey, OA, good to meet you,” the other man said. “Maggie tells me you’ve got the best black coffee on the block. I’m hoping it lives up to its reputation.”

“Uh…yeah, I’ll get that right away for you.” OA wiped his hands on his apron, leaving the loaves of bread spread out on the counter while he moved over to the coffee machine.

“I got this one,” Nestor offered, stepping forward with payment. “OA, I keep telling Maggie that I’d love to take her out for a cup of coffee, but she hasn’t been giving me a straight answer.” He gave Maggie a wink that didn’t go unnoticed by OA. “I guess the morning coffee run is as close as I’ll get for now.”

Maggie laughed a little uneasily. “I don’t know how much straighter I can get than the word ‘no,’ Nestor.”

Nestor just shrugged as his phone rang. “Someday that will be a yes,” he said confidently, motioning to her that he was going to step outside to take a call.

 _Can you grab the coffee?_ , he mouthed, heading out the door with his phone to his ear.

OA watched Agent Vertiz’s retreating figure as he handed two cups of strong black coffee over the counter to Maggie.

“Thanks,” she said. “Something tells me I’m gonna need this today.”

“Maggie.”

OA hadn’t meant to say her name out loud, but he must have done so without realizing because she turned back to look at him.

“Maggie, I—I know it sounds crazy, but maybe some time I can take you out for a cup of coffee?”

Maggie looked him up and down pointedly, her eyes drawn to his long white apron covered in flour, dough, and coffee stains.

“Are you gonna change first?” she asked.

It took OA a second to realize that she hadn’t said no.

~*~o~*~

“You were an Army Ranger? So you can handle a sniper rifle better than you can handle an espresso machine?”

OA nodded, trying to decide if Maggie was impressed or just surprised by that fact. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

He laughed and swirled his coffee around in his cup. Maggie had agreed to meet him away from the shop that day, as long as he brought the coffee, which is how they had ended up sitting on one of the benches outside 26 Fed, both of them sharing stories and sipping warm coffee in the afternoon sun.

“So when you got back from Iraq…”

“I came home for my mother and my sister,” he explained. “My father had just died, and it was so hard for them, and—”

“They needed help in the bakery,” Maggie finished his sentence for him. “I get it.” She gave his shoulder a friendly nudge. “You’re a good man, OA.”

“And what about Maggie Bell?” he asked. “What can you tell me about her?”

Maggie shrugged, taking a sip of her own coffee. “There’s not much to tell. I’m just a small town gal from Indiana.”

OA raised an eyebrow with interest. “So how does a small town gal from Indiana find herself at Quantico?”

“Well, maybe someday I’ll tell you that story,” Maggie replied cryptically.

Her voice was bright, but the way she looked away from him told OA not to press any further. She was quiet for a long moment, absently stirring her coffee, and OA touched his fingers to her chin and turned her face so he could meet her eyes.

“Maggie,” he whispered, brushing back the loose waves of hair from her face.

OA couldn’t stop himself. He leaned in and softly kissed her, enjoying the taste of coffee on her lips, certain that he was blushing and Maggie would hear his heart hammering against his chest and she would push him away.

But she melted into him instead, closing her eyes and deepening the kiss, and OA held her just a little tighter, the intimate touch of her lips on his leaving them both completely breathless.

~*~o~*~

“Omar, could you please take the boxes to the storage room?” Mrs. Zidan asked before the bakery opened the next morning. “The delivery man came early and did not put them inside.”

“Hurry, Omar,” Amira called with mock urgency from the other side of the kitchen. “If you get everything put away, you might be back before Maggie comes in for her morning coffee.”

OA chose to ignore his sister’s relentless teasing and made his way downstairs to move the boxes. He stacked a couple on top of each other and brought them into the storage room, shoving a couple other boxes out of the way to make space.

Amira was right, he thought. He _was_ looking forward to seeing Maggie that morning because he couldn’t stop thinking about the sweet kiss they had shared yesterday.

OA lifted a heavy box onto a shelf, the metal clanging against the wall, and he paused for a moment when he thought he heard an unusual bang and muffled yell from the bakery above.

“FBI! Get down on the ground and show me your hands!”

Even from a distance, OA heard the gruff order loud and clear, followed by the crack of splintering doors, shattering glass, and the noisy shuffle of feet and weapons. He heard his mother cry out, calling her children’s names and murmuring frantic words in Arabic, her panic-stricken voice drowned out only by Amira’s high-pitched shriek.

Quickly, OA sprinted out of the storage room, determined to reach his mother and sister, only to hear another familiar voice call out to him.

“Omar Zidan! FBI! Don’t move!”

OA froze and raised his hands, taking an involuntary step backwards and swallowing hard when he found himself staring down the black barrel of a gun.

“Maggie, what—”

“Turn around and get on the ground,” she barked. “Hands behind your head.”

In a state of utter confusion and fear for his family, OA sank to his knees and did as he was told.

Maggie swiftly moved in, yanking his arms behind his back, and OA winced as she slapped cold metal handcuffs around his wrists and hauled him to his feet.

“Omar Zidan.” Her voice was harsh and unwavering. “You’re under arrest for the murder of FBI Special Agent Nestor Vertiz.”


End file.
